


Redemption

by Sereven



Category: Warcraft III, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Lordaeron, Quel'Thalas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereven/pseuds/Sereven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince, desperate to reclaim what is left of his home. A commander, willing to sacrifice herself for her people, to give them a future. Crusaders, zealous, yet mislead. Survivors of the undead horror. However, the war is not yet over and the darkness spreads with every passing moment... For glory or death, the choice to fight is no longer theirs at all... AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What would have happened, had Kael'thas' sanity not kicked the bucket? What if had decided to return to Quel'thalas, instead of hiding out on the barren wasteland that they called Outland? This story followes the last elven king, as he and the remnants of his race try to rebuild their home and avenge their fallen. But not even with Kael'thas at their side, can the elves survive without help...

The sudden silence was almost deafening to all those soldiers, that were still able to look at the scene. Only the howling of the ice cold wind of the Icecrown glazier could be heard, its sound almost as chilling as the temperature.

No one was able to say anything, no one wanted to say anything. Too deep was the shock when they saw their leader fall. All their sacrifices and toils for nothing. Illidan had lost and Arthas, the one who had slaughtered their people, was victorious once more and marched on towards the glazier. They were all doomed now, there was no hope left.

They had a short breather, as the Scourge had retreated for the moment, to guard their leader as the dreaded Death Knight marched towards his dark destiny. But the peace would not last for long, they had no time to spare, they needed to escape quickly if they wanted to survive.

Kael'thas Sunstrider, last prince of the Blood Elves, ruler of the sad remains of his race, stood next to the other leaders of Illidan's forces, fury etched into the features on his face. He had followed Illidan in the hopes to get revenge for his homeland, his people... his father. But none of that was given to him. No, he had only lead more of his people to their deaths at the hand of the Scourge.

Arthas had taken everything from him and he had played right into the damned man's hands with every step he had taken. Arthas had taken everything, his home, his family, the woman he had once believed to love... and now he would take the rest of his people. And it was his fault. The madness of his obsession with revenge... he would doom his own race. He couldn't do that... he had a responsibility. The Bloodelves respected him as their leader, they looked to him for guidance through these dark times and all he did was lead them towards extinction.

But not anymore, his resolve was clear, the steps he would have to take now were unquestionable. All loyalties up to this point were gone, his only loyalty was to his own people.

"Sanguinar, give the signal for a full retreat of our forces... or at least was remains of them. Leave no one behind, we are done here. We will return home." Keal'thas said with a firm and steady voice. The warrior nodded gruffly before he walked off to fulfill his orders.

"What do you think you are doing, Kael'thas?" The Naga witch Lady Vashj hissed at him angrily, her eyes shining with rage in the face of this betrayal. "Our lord is out there, we need to retrieve him so we can plan what we do next."

"You do that, damn witch, but my loyalty ends here. I have payed the debt to Illidan with the blood of my people, we are no longer following your insane path." Kael said before he turned around and walked away from Vashj.

"Betrayal!" The witch shrieked in anger. "You dare do that, after all Lord Illidan has done for you? Guards stop this traitor at once!" At her order the Naga guards that had come with her charged towards Kael'thas, but with one motion and a fiery blast the elf knocked them all away from him.

"You don't want me to be your enemy, Vashj. You would regret it quickly." He said with an almost callous disregard to the danger of the situation he was in. "And you have a fallen leader to safe. Do you really wish to sacrifice his life to follow me and my people?" He asked mockingly.

The Naga Witch only growled in fury before she looked back towards the ice field where Illidan had fallen. She had no choice but to give up on hunting the traitorous elf. "You will pay for this, Sunstrider. You and your people will pay dearly for this betrayal." Her threat hung in the air before she turned away from Kael and made haste to reach Illidan before the Scourge could take him.

Kael'thas though only chuckled, knowing that Vashj and Illidan's remaining forces would be in no condition to threaten him and Quel'thalas for many years to come. Enough time to regain strength and fortify his homeland against any invading force. The Scourge's attack on Quel'thalas had taught them much about the shortcommings of their fortifications, those mistakes would not be repeated this time.

As he walked on, he reached the rallying point of his troops, a large number of elves already waiting there for him. They looked beaten, weary and frightened of the future, but what shocked Kael'thas the most was that there were less then a third of his men left after the battle for Icecrown. They had payed a steep blood price for their loyalty to Illidan, he could only hope that the price had not been too high.

He saw Sanguinar running around in the background, barking orders at the soldiers to hurry up, while their mages opened portals that would bring them back to Quel'thalas. Seeing the man busy, Kael approached the next best soldier he saw, a female warrior who leaned heavily on her long sword.

"Soldier, what is your name?" He asked sternly as he approached the woman.

She looked shocked at her lord, not expecting him to talk to her, but quickly answered dutifully. "Lana'thel, my lord."

Kael nodded, asking himself whether he had seen the woman before. Surely it must have been when he recruited his people for this fight. "Lana'thel, are these all the survivors that have been found?"

"I don't know, my lord. We came here with all men that were left, but our forces had been scattered when the Scourge broke through our lines..." She shook her head sadly. "I fear that all who have not returned yet are most likely dead … or will die very soon."

Kael'thas sighed in frustration, pinching the back of his nose as he did so. Just what has he lead his people into? The servitude to Illidan would have lead them to their own demise.

"Help others if you can and leave this forsaken place, we will return home to Quel'thalas before the Scourge comes to take us all." He told Lana'thel before he walked on. The elven woman just nodded before she limped towards a group of other wounded soldiers to leave this place with them.

Keal'thas allowed himself one last look back on the Icecrown glazier. Whatever Arthas was currently doing there, it would be fatal for them to find out right now. Revenge would have to wait for another day, but he would see the dreaded human die. He would not rest before that has happened, but for now his people were more important.

With the firm resolve to return one day for his final revenge the prince of the Bloodelves walked towards a portal and left the cold wasteland behind.

* * *

The journey through the portal was quick and he soon found himself in the familiar forests of his homeland, a place that he was sure he would never see again. He looked around and saw the large rune stone, not far from the portal, the stone being the only place left in Quel'thalas, that his mages could open a portal towards, since it was one of the last remaining untarnished sources of their once powerful arcane magic. Behind him he could hear the water of the Elrendar river, which separated the north of Quel'thalas from its south.

Kael'thas was soon approached by two of his advisers, Telonicus and Capernian, seeking instructions from their lord on how to continue now.

"My lord, we await your orders. Nearly all of our remaining forces have arrived and are at your disposal." Telonicus said with a bow towards his prince.

"Send out scouts to make sure that no enemy is near this position and send someone to find out where Lor'themar Theron and his troops are, they should still be in Quel'thalas fighting the Scourge." Kael'thas ordered sternly. Telonicus nodded and left immediately to fulfill his orders. "Capernian..." The prince said with a sigh. "... I need you to take a small group of soldiers and retrieve our remaining forces from Outland. Make haste, Illidan will be beyond furious and attack our outpost once he is in the condition to get revenge for our betrayal." The woman had a grim look on her face at the mere thought of returning to the wasteland that was Outland.

"But be cautious, we will need every single one of our people, if we want to reclaim our homeland and defend it against all opposition. No unnecessary risks, avoid fighting." He admonished sternly, not willing to show how much the losses of this day affected him. He was the future king, once they had reclaimed Quel'thalas he would crown himself. He was the last living descendent of the Sunstrider dynasty. Showing weakness was a flaw he could no longer afford to show.

"I won't disappoint you, my lord. I will return swiftly with our forces." Capernian bowed her head curtly before she turned to leave.

After his advisers had left him Kael looked around once more, seeing that the portals were now closed and all of his remaining soldiers had finally arrived here. He had plans for his return to Quel'thalas to liberate it from the Undead, but he had not thought that he would return here under these circumstances... or with so few troops in the wake of a crushing defeat by Arthas.

* * *

Seven days passed without news about Lor'themar or Capernian and prince Kael'thas grew impatient with every passing moment. They had long left the place where they had arrived and had taken residence in a small abandoned village near the rune stone.

Fairbreeze Village. He remembered the place faintly from the past, he sometimes passed through this place when he traveled between Dalaran and Silvermoon. It was a lively little town, but the state it was in now... it only fueled the cold rage Kael'thas already felt for Arthas and his undead minions.

He stood on a balcony, looking in the direction of Silvermoon, the fallen capitol city of his people. In one hand he held a small bundle, some of the finest silk wrapped around the skull of his father. The last time he had been in Silvermoon, he had salvaged the skull among other things. At that time he couldn't bear staying in the haunted city, his thirst for revenge called him away to aid the remains of the Alliance in their fight against Arthas.

"Soon, father, soon I will reclaim all that has been taken from us." Kael mumbled as he unwrapped the skull. "Quel'thalas will rise again and all who dare to defy us will be purged from this world." He looked intently at the empty eye sockets, trying to remember his father. Inwardly he wished that Anasterian was still with him. Things were so much easier when his father reigned over their people and he could do whatever he saw as worthy of his time. But Anasterian Sunstrider was dead, gone forever and now Kael would have to live without his father's aid.

A knock on the door in the room behind him shook Kael'thas out of his musings, so he quickly wrapped the skull back up in the sheet. For now he did not want his followers to know that he had this relic of his late father, not until he could lay his father's remains to rest.

He finally turned around and admitted the visitor to the room, seeing Capernian enter. She looked weary and dead on her feet, but he did not care about her well being at that moment, he was more interested in hearing her report. She could rest after that.

The woman bowed before her prince before she finally spoke. "My prince, I have done as you asked, but we ran into some problems during our retreat. The Naga of Lady Vashj had cut us off from our only ways to escape and tried to kill our Magisters that could open the portal back home. We had to fight our way out of an ambush before we could safely return." She hesitated for some moments before she continued her report, fearing the reaction of her lord. "I beg your forgiveness... I have lost several of your more seasoned soldiers..." She had averted her gaze towards the floor, unable to look into the face of her prince. He had directly instructed her to be cautious, that they would need every single soldier to survive the future toils.

Kael'thas looked at the woman with a furious expression. "Had I not told you to avoid fighting? Had I not told you to be cautious? And you dare return and tell me that you lost my soldiers fighting the serpent beasts of that wicked witch?" He yelled at her before he stepped forward and gripped the woman's chin, tilting her head up so she would look at him instead of the ground.

Capernian winced in pain as Kael'thas gripped her chin, her last strength already leaving her in this moment. Days of fighting her way out of the enemy territory, days with little sleep and even less food had taken their toll on her, but she would not show her weakness if she could help it. She would fall even further from grace, should she loose consciousness in his presence.

"Please forgive me, my prince. They had us surrounded the moment we entered our camp... we had no choice..." She rasped out, terrified by the fury she saw in Kael'thas eyes.

"Forgiveness? When you disrespect my orders? I should kill you where you stand... but I've already lost too many of my followers... our race won't survive if I keep on killing people for such an offense." He finally let go of her chin and pushed he away from him, causing the woman to stumble and fall down with a loud thud. "Get out of my sight, I will decide later what to do with you." He said coldly before he turned around and returned to the balcony where had stood before.

Capernian was barely able to pick herself up from the ground and leave the room. She knew how close she had come to death that very moment. Prince Kael'thas would have shown her no mercy for this failure if he had a choice. She was still useful and she would have to stay that way or else her life would be forfeit. The prince was no longer known for his clemency, after all that had happened he would do anything to ensure that his goals are reached, no matter the means.

On the balcony Kael thought about what he had done just moments before. He knew that it was not right to blame Capernian for this failure, but the loss of more soldiers at the hand of his former allies just added to his growing anger. He mentally added Vashj to the list of people he would make suffer once he had rebuilt his kingdom. Arthas, the Scourge, the traitorous Alliance, Vashj and her Naga, they all would pay. One day he would make them all pay for what they have done to him and his people.

* * *

The next day Kael'thas and his advisers met for the planning of their final push towards Silvermoon. The first thing the other advisers realized when the meeting started, was the absence of Capernian, but that the prince neither waited for her arrival, nor that all who might have known, were oddly silent about it, could only mean that she had somehow fallen from grace. The thought alone was unsettling for some of them, knowing that she had been one of his favorites so far.

Keal'thas looked around at each of his men. Those were the leaders of his armies, the ones who had followed him even into the doomed assault on Icecrown. Men who had and will follow him to the end of the world. "The day has come, the day that we will finally reclaim the home that the Scourge has taken from us. After years it is finally the time to reclaim not just our races ancestral home, but also its honor and might. All who oppose us will be crushed, there can be no failure here." Kael said imperiously.

"My Lord,..." Sanguinar started, "... your troops stand ready. They have recuperated after the battle in the north and await your orders." To this the prince only nodded with a pleased expression on his otherwise stoic face.

"My Lord, I can also bring you other good news." Telonicus continued. "This morning some of our scouts returned, they have found Lor'themar Theron and his troops. They had been fighting against the undead intruders in the south, but they will join us before the day is over. Once we have started our attack they should arrive as backup not too long after the initial assault."

"Very well. With all those troops we should have no problems with annihilating all undead that have remained in our home. Remember that even though some of those abominations might have the faces of friends and family, they are no longer your loved ones. If you truly care about them, then you will give them a swift death, that is the greatest mercy you can give their tortured souls." Keal'thas spoke with conviction. "All of you, gather your men, we will march towards Silvermoon and reconquer it." All advisers saluted their prince before they quickly left to rally their soldiers, leaving only Kael'thas and Sanguinar.

"My Lord..." Sanguinar asked firmly but respectfully.

"Yes?" The prince asked annoyed. "What is it?"

"Might I inquire what has happened to Grand Astromancer Capernian? Her absence was very... unexpected."

"What will happen to her is none of your business, Sanguinar. She has failed me and will no longer serve in a position of power like before, that is all you need to know. Don't repeat her mistake and disappoint me, Sanguinar. I will not tolerate failure." Kael'thas replied with a menacing growl.

"Yes, my lord." Without further waiting the man left the prince, disturbed by the underlying anger in the prince's voice. "Just what have you done, Capernian." He mumbled to himself as walked towards his troops.

* * *

The assault on the city itself was quickly over. The only resistance the blood elf forces met, were the stray undead that roamed the Dead Scar, the sad reminder of Arthas' destructive onslaught on the elven homeland. The city itself was nothing more then a haunted memory of its long gone glory. The few stray corpses that the Scourge did not take were still littering the streets, the ghosts of the slaughtered citizens haunting the streets and buildings. But the ghosts did not attack, seemingly recognizing their former kin, as Kael'thas forces advanced through the streets.

For the prince every step through this city contributed to his rage, all those ghosts, the houses that had remained in the state they had been during the attack... the reminders of people running for their lives as the undead roamed the streets. Men, women and children... his people slaughtered in their homes... Arthas and his monsters had taken so much from him and his people, the atrocities that had happened here; it would only be fitting that this very city would now become the source of the Scourge's destruction. From here he would prepare for his own crusade against the damned Death Knight and his minions. And when he finally had his revenge he would make Arthas suffer, just like Arthas' beasts made his people suffer.

When they had finally reached the steps to the city's former center, the palace from where the King and the Convocation of Silvermoon had governed their people, one of Kael'thas' advisers stepped towards him.

"My lord, the city is under our control... there was no resistance from the undead specters. But the troops are wary of the haunted buildings, what shall we do, my lord?" Sanguinar asked with a firm expression.

"Have the men find a way to get rid of those ghosts, use force if necessary. We may not have encountered the Scourge here, despite my expectations, but we can't risk anything and need to take the city quickly. Send the men to scout every building, every street. And post guards at all entrances to the city." Kael'thas ordered swiftly, his eyes never leaving the palace from where his father had once reigned.

"My prince, there might be another way to appease the souls of those who had died here. A way that would not require violence." An elven woman in long white robes said to the agitated prince, unknowing how dangerous it could be to contradict the prince's orders when he was like this.

"And what do you think you can do? Spit it out, I have no time for nonsense." The prince bellowed at the woman, not even bothering with who she was.

The woman instinctively stepped further away from the angry prince, but spoke none the less. "The ghosts might pass on, if we just properly bury the remains of the deceased in this city... to honor them like our people did in the past..." The woman grew more nervous with every moment of the prince's attention on her. His undiminished glare would have cowed even the fiercest opponents at this point.

"Fine, bury them. We would have had to get rid of those bones anyway. Now begone, I don't have time to listen to the likes of you." With these words he left the woman and marched towards his father's palace. Here he would find the time to honor his dead father like he wanted to do for a very long time.

He had returned to the home of his ancestors, he had retaken the city of his people. Now he was one step closer to his revenge, but there was still a long way to go. All of the world stood against his people, their former allies had betrayed them, their enemies were still on the rise, their own home still in ruins. They would have to find a solution for their addiction to magic as well, but at least for that Illidan had given him a good idea how to solve this particular problem. Still they had plenty of problems but in time they would be strong enough to show their enemies, to show them that the Bloodelves would always have their revenge.


	2. Chapter 2

The entire hall was filled to the last place, as guards, courtiers and petitioners flocked to the throne of Kael'thas Sunstrider, the newly crowned king of Quel'thalas. The king was the sole beacon of hope for his people, the few survivors of the Scourge onslaught, that had nearly ended seven thousand years of proud elven history. But with their new king, the elves where willing to continue their desperate struggle for survival.

The time was still grim for them and not even half of their homeland had been reclaimed yet, but no one doubted that it would only be a matter of time, before they would win the war in the south and drive the sinister undead from their lands. But the fight would be hard and gruesome. Many more of their courageous soldiers would die to achieve this goal.

Not that the majority of the courtiers here in the capital would be bothered by that. They had not fought before, they would not fight in the future. All they did was grovel in the shadow of their king, squabbling like spoiled children.

"Just look at them, Sarannis. This incestuous bunch of good for nothing nobles, falling over themselves to suck up to our king. They sicken me." The imposing Lord Arion Sanguinar said derisively, as he watched the court from a far corner of the room. His young protege, the elven soldier Sarannis Dawnblade, stood next to him, watching the scene with equal distaste as he master.

"One would have believed, that they would have learned their lesson, after the deaths of most of their noble friends. They are the sad remains of the once proud nobility and Convocation of Silvermoon, yet they act as if they are still as powerful as they used to be." Sarannis said scathingly, as she brushed a strand of her coppery hair out of her face. "I would like to see them face the horrors that us soldiers fight against, every day of our struggle in the war."

"I'd rather not have these simpering fools on a battlefield. They will only get others killed."

"Ah, my dear Lord Sanguinar, your low opinion of our skills wounds my pride. Not all of us nobles are useless in a fight." Another woman had approached them. Another noble lady of the court or at least Sarannis thought of her as such. Her long, deep blue dress and the fancy style of her silvery blond hair at least implied as much. As did the haughtiness of her words.

"Malande. Why am I not surprised." Sanguinar growled, as he saw the woman and the mocking smile on her lips.

"Don't forget, my old friend, you are just as much a noble as me and those simpletons in the shadow of the throne." Sanguinar scoffed derisively. But Sarannis saw more in the lady's words and actions. Malande was here to play a game of wits with the grizzled warrior. One that Sanguinar would not be able to win. "And I see that you have your lapdog... pardon me, your protege, with you at every step." Now her contemptuous gaze was focused on Sarannis herself.

"I believe it is time for you to leave, Malande. Go back to sucking up to our King." Sanguinar growled. The noble lady merely laughed, before she answered.

"Oh I will return to the side of our king, no need to worry about that. He will need the right kind of advisers, especially after the disgrace of Capernian. And I will be there to fill that place, at his side, however he requires me to serve." She finally left the two soldiers alone, as she sashayed back to the throne, with more sway to her hips than necessary and appropriate in this kind of place.

"What a vile woman." Sarannis commented, once she was sure that Malande was out of earshot.

"Don't let her bother you. You are worth a dozen of her kind. She hides here, in the safety of our ancient capital, whereas you fight for our race's very survival." Sanguinar said, as he placed a hand on his protege's shoulder. "And don't forget, the king himself has seen your strength and worth, else he would have never made you a member of his personal guard."

"My guard duty is a thing of the past."

"True. But look, the king has finally time for us. Let's not keep him waiting, his patience is thin these days." She nodded in concurrence and both of them walked closer to the throne. They stopped a few feet away and knelt before their king.

Kael'thas Sunstrider, last of his proud line of kings, looked down on them with an undecipherable expression. So far Lord Sanguinar had been one of his most valued advisers and a highly respected leader of his army. But none of the nobles should feel assured of their own worth at the moment. The king's respect and benevolence could be lost just as easy as they could be obtained.

"Rise, Sanguinar, and report. How is the war proceeding?" The king's voice was calm. A good sign for the two soldiers.

"My king, your troops have successfully reclaimed all lands north of the Elrendar river and pacified the area. The soldiers are gathering near the river at the moment, to prepare for our assault on the Scourge infested south."

"Good. I expect a quick success in this war, Sanguinar. Every village held by the undead is an insult to our ancestors. Every day we allow them to spread their darkness is travesty that must not be allowed to go on." Everyone could hear the barely contained anger in the king's voice. Kael'thas hated the Scourge above all else and all his mind was filled with now, was the wish to purge the undead from his kingdom.

"We will do our utmost to guarantee a quick success..."

"Don't say it, do it!" Kael'thas growled. "Reclaim what's been taken from us. Destroy the Scourge and bring me the heads of all the traitors in the south!" The king's voice thundered through the room now and his exclamation was met by great approval from the nobles around him.

"We will not fail, your majesty." Sanguinar said, before he bowed once more and left the throne room quickly. His cloak billowed wildly behind him, as Sarannis hurried to keep up with her master and teacher.

* * *

The lord and his student left the capital the same night and rode south with haste. They followed the long trail of the Dead Scar, the dark reminder of Quel'thalas downfall. Most of the northern part of the kingdom had survived the onslaught with little to no blemish, but the Scar... the path that Arthas and his minions had carved through the elven homeland, it was enough to remind a thousand generations of the pain and misery of their noble ancestors. A wound that would never be forgotten... and one that was nigh on impossible to heal.

As they followed the Dead Scar to the south, they passed several encampments of Magisters and the Botanists of the king's High Botanist, Freywinn. All these people were busy trying to find a way to remove the stain of the undead, but with little success. Sarannis knew Freywinn well and knew how scared the man was to fail his king. He worked himself half to death in his attempts to cleanse the land... alas with little to no success.

Eventually they reached the camp of their troops. A magnificent sight to Sarannis eyes. Nigh on two thousand elven soldiers. Warriors, rangers, physicians, magisters... all groups of the elven military were present. And still these troops were nothing but a sad reminder of the strength the High Elves once commanded. These were the few survivors of the war against Arthas and his Scourge. But they commanded respect and would fight with the ferocity and indomitable will of their race.

"Sarannis, go to your soldiers. I will call for you later, when we are ready to plan our strategy." Sanguinar said, as he dismounted from his warhorse.

"As you command, my lord."

"And Sarannis, try to get some sleep. You look dead on your feet." There was a mix of humor and concern in his voice, as he looked down on the smaller elven woman. As formidable as a fighter she may be, she tended to push herself too far. One day she would find herself in a situation where she would be unable to escape, because she ignored her exhaustion for too long. Even now he was sure that the woman had not slept since they had left for the capital... more than two days ago.

Sarannis merely nodded, before she walked off towards the tents of her men. Her Bloodwarders. The troops given to her by the king himself.

"Welcome back, commander." Lyrlia Blackshield, one of her subordinates, said."Everyone is ready to depart as soon as we get the order."

"Good, Lyrlia. Very good. But for now we should get as much rest as we can. The south is infested with undead. The fight in the Eversong Forest was nothing in comparison to what awaits us there. But tell me, where is my second in command?"

"Ah... Althallen is... preoccupied..."

Sarannis sighed, "Again? Is it Fenissa or has some other dumb oaf fallen for his non existent charms?" Althallen Brightblade was an excellent warrior, good enough that he managed to rise to the post of her right hand man during the short war in Eversong. But his favorite pastime did neither include fighting, nor training and often caused his commander much exasperation.

Lyrlia did not reply to the question, both of them already could guess the answer. Instead the two elven women sat down, side by side, next to a camp fire and watched the moon and the stars above them. Sarannis was surprised how fast the time had passed. Before she had even realized it, the day was gone and the dark cloak of the night had covered the land. In this dark twilight the usually warm and bright land of Eversong looked so dark and menacing, as if the undead were lurking behind every corner... maybe they did.

"Commander?" Lyrlia asked, sounding almost hesitant.

"Hm?"

"Can we even win the war in the south? There are so many undead, but only so few of us."

"This is not about can or can't, Lyrlia. We mustn't loose or our race will not survive the next year. For our future and the generations that will follow after us, we have to win." Sarannis mumbled, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

Lyrlia soon felt a weight leaning on her shoulder, as she saw her commander sleeping soundly next to her. Most nobles would have seen this as undignified. A commander falling asleep next to her soldiers. But Sarannis wasn't noble and she cared little for the proprieties of the court. Lyrlia liked her even more for that. She quickly motioned for two other soldiers to come and help her, as they lifted their commander and brought her to her own tent.

* * *

"Commander..."

Sarannis mumbled something, as she tried to figure out where the voice had come from. It was so dark... too dark... But the ground underneath her was so soft and warm...

"Commander!"

The voice was more insistent this time. A small groan escaped Sarannis lips. She realized that she was lying somewhere, her eyes still closed, as she tried to cling to the blissful sleep. But she wouldn't succeed.

"Commander!"

This voice was starting to annoy her. And even worse, now someone was also shaking her shoulder. Reluctantly she opened her eyes. It wasn't very bright, the light seemed dimmed by something. It was then, that she realized that she was not outside, where she had fallen asleep, but inside her tent. And the annoying voice was that of her second in command.

"I'm up already. Don't annoy me this early in the morning, Althallen." She groaned, as she sat up. The sheets that had covered her before, fell down and revealed her small form to the eyes of the elven soldier in her tent. Only belatedly she realized that she was no longer wearing her armor, but only the thin silken chemise that she wore underneath.

She knew she should have felt ashamed of being seen by Althallen like this, but at the moment she couldn't care less. But there was one question that came up, "How did I end up here?"

"Lyrlia," Althallen replied, as if the name alone would explain everything. And in fact it did. The girl was far too caring about those around her. Of course she wouldn't allow her commander to sleep outside, if there was a tent and a bed for her nearby. Neither would the girl allow her commander to sleep in her heavy armor, to suffer the consequences the next morning.

"This girl... remind me to thank her later."

"Of course, Commander." Althallen replied dutifully, as he admired the view. Sarannis had left her bed and started stretching her sore muscles. The Commander of the Bloodwarders was considered rather pleasant on they eyes, but only few ever saw her without armor like this. Althallen considered himself privileged in that regard. "But I am also here to inform you that Lord Sanguinar has called for a war council in the main tent. All leaders are supposed to assemble there within the hour."

"I understand." The commander replied, before she walked over to the table, where Lyrlia had left her armor. With trained eased she put all parts of the heavy armor on and readied herself for the day. She already knew that she would fight, before the sun would set again. Today they would attack Southern Quel'thalas... which most soldiers now only called the Ghostlands...

As she left her tent, she could see that most of her soldiers were already up and running about, even though the hour was still early and the sun had only barely risen above the horizon. She saw Lyrlia, who was busy ordering some other soldiers around. The two women only traded a subtle nod, before Sarannis continued on towards the biggest tent of the encampment. The place where he master was waiting for her.

Sanguinar's tent was already filled with a group of soldiers, all high ranking leaders among the elven troops that would attack the Scourge. Mostly men and women that had already fought for their king in Lordaeron and Icecrown. Trusted soldiers, good soldiers. But that wouldn't mean that Sarannis liked most of them. Far from it.

"Now look what the cat dragged in. You look so grim, Sarannis. Lighten up, we are about to retake our homeland." She frowned darkly. She knew this voice. This sickening sweet voice of a darn sycophant.

"Pathaleon," she growled, "What do you want?"

He shook his head with a mock disappointed expression, as he chided her as if she was a small child, "Now, now, this isn't the correct way to address your superior."

"You are not my superior. I only answer to Lord Sanguinar and the King." She knew that Pathaleon was much higher in rank than her. By all means she should answer to this man. But being Sanguinar's protege and student had its perks. One of them being that she only answered to her master.

"And I only answer to the king. But don't worry, soon you will also serve me, my dear. Once my plans are complete, I will rise in rank above even the so esteemed Lord Sanguinar."

"Is that so?" The gruff voice of the lord could be heard, as the menacing elf appeared behind Pathaleon.

And the insolent man actually paled, as he realized that the leader of the army stood behind him. "Lord Sanguinar... I was just..."

"I don't care." Sanguinar said, as he pushed past Pathaleon.

"But..."

"Sit down you fool!" And he complied, though he looked angry and muttered unintelligible curses under his breath. "Now that all of you have arrived, let's talk about the facts." Sanguinar walked over to a nearby table and unrolled a large map. On it they could see Quel'thalas and Lordaeron. "Our king has ordered us to retake the rest of our kingdom and to chase the Scourge out of our homeland. We already control the north, now we grasp the corrupted south. The battles will be long, they will be hard. Don't expect your enemies to show mercy. Expect to see the rotten faces of friends and family, to see your homes in ruin. Expect the gruesome abominations of the Scourge to roam the land of your fathers. But we won't give up, we won't stop. We will fight until not even a single undead pollutes Thalassian air. Ready your men, we will march in one hour!" The assembled leaders roared in approval, especially when Sanguinar took out a knife and rammed in into the map, where pitch black letters marked one area. Deathholme. The fight for Quel'thalas future had just begun.


	3. Chapter 3

She watched with great trepidation, as they rode through the ever darkening forest of southern Quel'thalas. Their goal was clear, their king's order was absolute. No undead would survive this onslaught. Or no elf... no one could predict the outcome of this crusade. And not even the sun would guide them in these times of darkness.

Sarannis had decided to ride with the vanguard, much to the surprise of the other officers under Lord Sanguinar's command. None of them had been keen on doing this duty. The vanguard would be the first to meet the enemy and as such they were expected to take the heaviest losses among the troops. But Sarannis was not willing to let these soldiers ride into battle without a proper commander. Her own Bloodwarders would function just as well under Althallen's command. So now she commanded a small group of less than forty, the bait for the hidden undead forces.

"Commander, look!" One of her mounted warriors said, as he pointed towards the end of the road.

There, hidden in the dark mist, shrouded by the never ending night, they could see the ruins of a once lively elven village. She remembered it. She had been here as a child, with her mother, to visit the local market. The village used to be the center of trade for this region, as it was on the road that lead to the human kingdom of Lordaeron and connected all other villages to their own capital in the north. Sarannis knew that this would only be the first of several bittersweet home comings.

"Look alive, brothers and sisters, for our enemy has already seen us and is unwilling to part with our occupied home." Sarannis yelled loudly. "Let's show them how we deal with invaders!" Battle cries filled the air, intermixed with sound of drawn swords. Sarannis had pulled her own sword from it's scabbard, before she spurred her Hawkstrider on. "Let no undead escape! Expect now mercy! Show no mercy!" Before she fully realized it, her entire group was charging forward into battle.

The small vanguard crushed into the disorganized ranks of the undead. Steel meeting steel, cutting flesh, rotten and other. The situation quickly got out of hand and Sarannis lost track of the battle. Her soldiers here were not as disciplined as her own Bloodwarders, but what they lacked in discipline and training, they compensated with the unbridled fury they unleashed on the undead.

With a jolt she suddenly fell off her mount, as the giant bird croaked in pain. The magnificent animal's life had come to a quick and unceremonious end, courtesy of a skeleton warrior and his rusty sword. And the enemy was not satisfied with the bird alone, instead the undead lunged at her. Mindless blows, uncoordinated, unplanned, but stronger than the elven warrior could have expected. And the skeleton would not ever tire, as it tried to overpower her.

An arrow hit the skull of the undead, where its eyes had been, long ago, when this monster was still human... or elven. No one could tell anymore. But the distraction was enough for Sarannis and she quickly pushed her enemy's sword out of the way, before she broke the undead's femur with a kick from her heavy boot. The monster stumbled and fell, but there was no other reaction. No pain, no fear, no self preservation. The skeleton crawled towards her, still trying to kill her. But she knew how to end this unholy creature. It had no chance to block the blow, which cut the spine beneath the shoulders. The bones crumbled to the ground and moved no more.

But Sarannis had no time to dwell on this unimportant victory. The fighting around her continued without pause. She shuddered as she fully realized what she had started by attacking without waiting for the main army. Her men were outnumbered, but not outgunned. But even the strongest warrior's conviction would crumble after some time in this place. This ruined city, illuminated only by the flames of the torches. The air filled with the sounds of battle and the cries of wounded and the dieing... And the ever present smell of rotten flesh. Sweet, yet so putrid. It was nauseating.

Another undead charged at her, a half rotten ghoul this time. Even more mindless than the skeleton before, Sarannis wasted no time to end this foe. These undead were little more than cannon fodder, that much was for sure.

"Don't let them separate you from your comrades! Stay together! Fight together!" And die together if need be... but she dared not yell that last part. It would only dishearten her men.

She saw one of her men, a young boy, who had joined the military way before his time. The boy bled from a wound on his arm and looked exhausted. But a group of undead had ganged up on him. He wouldn't last much longer. Sarannis ran towards him, cutting through two more enemies on her way, as she tried to safe the foolish child. She reached him quickly and ended the miserable existence of one of his attackers. But just as she was about to strike another one down, the young boy was suddenly bathed in fire.

"Cultists! On the balconies above!" One of the soldiers yelled. The dark robed human who had cast the spell was killed almost instantly, as several arrows hit his chest. But it was too late for the boy. Sarannis could only watch in shock, as the charred remains of the young warrior fell to the ground and ceased all movement.

She felt despair rise up inside of her, as she could only watch as another young life was ended. But she forced the feeling back down and allowed her hatred of the undead to take its place. Hatred was good. Hatred kept her going. Hatred allowed her to continue and ignore the protests of both her mind and body.

"Commander, the undead are retreating!" Another soldier yelled. The weary men and women cheered, assured of their victory. But Sarannis could not share the sentiment. She knew this tactic, from the frozen battleground in Icecrown. Something really bad was about to happen.

"Stay alert. This is far from over!" Sarannis barked. She prayed to the Sun, the Moon, the Light, whatever would listen, to make the army move faster. Else the vanguard would soon make its last stand, here on the main road of this ruined village. "Rangers to higher positions. Take the wounded to one of the houses and create a barricade to protect them. The rest keep an eye open for enemies and any advantage you can find. We need to hold out until the main force of our army arrives."

The men and women complied without hesitation. For the first time since her ill begotten attack on this village, Sarannis allowed herself a moment to rest. But even as she sat down on a stone bench, she used the moment to watch her surroundings.

The ground around her was littered with bones and rotten flesh. Maggots had already started feasting on the undead remains. Repulsed she tore her gaze away from the gruesome sight and continued looking around. With great sadness she realized that nearly all of their mounts had been slain in the first attack. Only a hand full remained, though the magnificent birds looked spooked and would most likely not be fit to be ridden any time soon.

"What a mess. Are you alright, commander?" Sarannis looked up and actually managed a relieved smile, as she saw who had spoken to her.

"Yes, Lyrlia. I am alright. The wounds are superficial... but tell me, how bad are our losses?"

"Four are dead, at least a dozen are heavily wounded and cannot take part in the next fight. None of us have managed to get out of this without any cuts or bruises. The fight was... messy." Lyrlia said, before she sighed and looked almost forlorn down the road from where they had come. "Commander... do you think that our forces will arrive any time soon?"

Sarannis closed her eyes for a moment, as tried to think about the possibilities. But things looked grim for them. And it was her fault. "I am afraid not. We were an hour or two ahead of the main force under Lord Sanguinar's command. And we don't know if they have been attacked as well. The army has no reason to move any faster than normal. For now we will have to managed with what we have."

Lyrlia nodded, but her eyes spoke volumes now. There was little hope to be found there. But suddenly the woman's green eyes widened, before she pulled the dagger from her belt. Sarannis was about to speak, when Lyrlia's other hand shot forward and pulled her out of the way. With one swift movement, Sarannis fell to the ground, as Lyrlia drove her dagger into something that had been behind her. Only belatedly Sarannis realized that there had been an undead monster behind her. A shade, hidden in the shadows of the ruins.

"Watch out! Shades have infiltrated the village! Leave no shadows unchecked!" Lyrlia ordered. Technically she was not allowed to issue orders, but in their current situation no one was hellbent on sticking to the chain of command. "Commander... forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you..." One moment she barked orders like a seasoned leader, the next she was back to her gentle and caring self. It was an ambivalence that Sarannis never really understood.

"Don't worry. But... thank you, Lyrlia. You probably saved my life." the commander said gratefully, as she pushed herself up from the ground. Her muscles protested against the strain and her armor felt heavier than ever before.

"Commander, a black rider is approaching from the south," one of the rangers yelled.

Moments later they all could see the lone rider. A rider in a pitch black armor, adorned with skulls and other gruesome motives. A helmet, complete with horns and eerily glowing blue opening for the eyes, barely hid the long pointed ears of the rider. There was no doubt, whoever this was, the person had been an elf before its death. The horse itself was more a patchwork of rotten flesh and bones, complete with glowing blood red eyes. A menacing sight, that caused several members of the vanguard to turn away and reconsider the option to run for their lives.

"Defenders of Silvermoon, hear the words of Lich King!" The rider growled, the voice dark and twisted beyond recognition. "Your courage and strength have suitably impressed my lord. But your struggle is futile. Quel'thalas belongs to the Scourge now and for all time. Surrender and your transition to the ranks of the Lich King's army will be smooth and painless. Resist and you all shall be slaughtered, before we will resurrect you as the lowest of the undead in the vast army of the Scourge."

"Who are you, coward, that you come here to order us around? Why should we heed your words, when you are too afraid to show us your face? We shall never surrender to the likes of you. We will fight till the bitter end. To the last man if necessary. We will fight and we will crush all of you abominations!" Sarannis screamed angrily. Her soldiers cheered when they heard her words. There was little encouragement, but it steeled their resolve more than anything else she could have done.

"Ah, Sarannis Dawnblade. I remember you from the past of this miserable body. Master Dar'Khan has set his sights on you. Soon you will grovel before the master and beg him to make you one of the Scourge. Enjoy your last pitiful moments among the living." the dark knight said menacingly. "But as you have already mentioned abominations... Luzran, Knucklerot! End these fools Bring her remains to our master once you are done." The rider chuckled darkly, before he turned around and rode away.

Sarannis had no chance to stop him, as the rider disappeared in a wave of new undead attackers. First among them were two hulking abominations, gruesome monsters with three arms. She could already smell the rotten bowls of these monsters, before they had even reached the village.

Some of her soldiers had finally lost all hope and ran, not that she could fault them. It was a truly terrifying sight before them. "Stand your ground! Fight together and slay these beasts!" She barked loudly, but she was sure that only few had truly heard her... or listened if they had.

Several of the smaller undead had reached the defenders first, long before the slow abominations could get to them. But none of them stood for long, as they elven warriors cut them down. But the largest of the enemies wouldn't go down that easily. She could only watch with horror, as the first abomination reached their lines and cut a bloody path through the defenders.

A chain was suddenly wrapped around her left arm, yanking her forward forcefully. Fear rose in her heart, as she saw that the chain was directly linked to one of the hulking monsters. It forced her to get closer to the enemy, so it could attack her with its other arms and the large cleavers the abomination had in its hands. The weapons were nearly as big as she herself and she was hard pressed to avoid getting hit. She couldn't get her arm free and the enemy got closer and closer. Soon she would stand directly in front of the monster and then there would be no more escape.

"Commander!" Several of her soldiers came to her aid and tried to cut the abomination's arm off, which held the chain. But they had little success. One of the men died almost immediately after his assault, when one of the cleavers cut him in half without any resistance at all.

Seeing another one of her men die, enraged Sarannis. She had sworn to protect these soldiers. When no one wanted to command the vanguard, knowing that it would be nearly suicidal, she had volunteered and sworn to herself that she would not let them die. Now her short sighted attack on this village would cost them dearly. She let her anger and frustration out in a fierce battlecry, before she she ran towards the abomination, before the chain would be too short, and jumped on the monster. It roared, as her sword pierced the thick skin and the rotten flesh underneath, and left a large cut from the chest down to the open bowels.

She nearly fell, when the abomination yanked on the chain once more. She barely avoided the bloody cleaver, by pressing herself to the ground. The second cleaver descended on her, but missed when she rolled to the side and jumped up once more.

She finally had an idea to defeat the beast, but she needed help, "You, help me. Grab the chain and pull it when I give you the signal." She ordered the few soldiers, who had remained near her. Together they grabbed the chain and when Sarannis gave them the order to, they pulled as hard they could, using the chain to trip their hulking enemy. The abomination had already been off balance when they pulled, now it fell and landed on the ground with a loud thud. The ground around them shook, as it hit the ground.

The beasts hold on the chain had finally loosened enough for Sarannis to free her arm. The armor on her arm had been crushed, her skin broken and bruised. But she ignored pain. Instead she gripped her sword tighter, as she rushed over to the fallen foe and rammed her sword into the abomination's neck. It shuddered and for a moment she feared that this wouldn't be enough to end this threat. But moments later the monster ceased all movement. It was dead. Once and for all.

Sarannis allowed herself a moment of rest and some deep breaths. She regretted the latter quickly, as the stench of the monster filled her nose and nearly caused her to gag. But even this moment of rest was too much. A commodity that she couldn't afford at the moment. She only heard a strangled scream, before she turned around and saw the second abomination directly behind her, it's weapons raised to strike her down.

Her eyes widened in shock, her body frozen in fear of her imminent death. The others around her screamed and jumped to the side, but she didn't move. She couldn't. She could only stare at the bloody weapons that descended upon her. She wasn't ready to die... her duty was not complete. She had vowed to herself that she would not rest until Quel'thalas was free once again... but all that was lost now. But she wouldn't close her eyes in fear. She would at least face her death honorably, standing strong, not cowering like a weakling.

But the blow that would have ended her life never came. Instead it was the abomination who got hit. A large blood red hammer collided with the monsters head, crushing it with a sickening sound. The sheer force behind that blow moved the beast to the side, enough so its cleavers missed Sarannis by more than an arm's length.

Then Sarannis saw her savior. Behind the stumbling beast she could see Lord Sanguinar, clad in his red and black armor, on top of his black warhorse. Behind him came the entire might of his army. Relieving the bloodied vanguard from their grizzly fight. Several more riders came and attacked the abomination, until the second monster followed its brother's fate and expired.

"Lord Sanguinar..." Sarannis said weakly. The battle had taken its toll on her and now that her fight was over, she felt the exhaustion, as it hit her full force. She collapsed and succumbed to sweet unconsciousness, before she could hear his reply.

* * *

Kael'thas Sunstrider was filled with rage, as he saw what the south of his father's kingdom had become. So much darkness. Death at every corner. This once warm and welcoming place had become nothing more than a living nightmare. His soldiers had aptly named this land the Ghostlands and he couldn't deny that it was a fitting name.

He had come to assess his troops progress, after a messenger had informed him that Lord Sanguinar's troops had crushed a huge part of the enemy's forces and retaken several villages, the local capital among them. So he had left for Tranquillien, the freed capital of these Ghostlands, accompanied by his personal guard and a small group of courtiers who would not leave his side, unless he outright ordered them to.

The village itself was in a sorry state. Most buildings were in ruins, the rest only marginally better at best. But proud statue at the center of the village, once shining brightly in the sun, had lost its light. But that could be remedied one day. If the sun would ever shine here again... he had no idea if they could purge all of the Scourge's corruption from this land.

The soldiers had already started fortifying the village, to withstand any further attacks from the undead. He knew about their efforts, as one of his mages, his confidant Rommath, had asked his permission to send several magical Constructs from Silvermoon to aid the defenders here. It wasn't a request he would deny, as he could clearly see the sense in it.

"My king," Lord Sanguinar approached him, his head bowed respectfully. Kael scrutinized the leader of his army for a moment. The man looked much more weary than the last time he had seen him, a few weeks ago. And there were several new cuts on his face and his exposed arms. But he was still the imposing warrior, maybe even more now.

"Report, Sanguinar. How much progress have you made in these past few weeks?" Kael demanded to know.

"None, your grace. I dared not push further into enemy territory, before we have finished establishing our presence and supply lines here. And my men are tired and need rest. The fight was hard, especially here in Tranquillien. The enemy was most stubbornly refusing to give the village back to us."

"And here I heard that you only had such a hard fight, because your protegé decided to attack without any chance for success and you had to rush in and save her," Sanguinar glared at the woman, who had dared to interrupt his report to the king. But Malande only smirked at him, a condescending gesture of disrespect.

"Commander Sarannis lead the vanguard into the fight and cut down a huge number of foes, in an effort to liberate this village," Sanguinar replied angrily.

"Yet you do not deny that you had to rush into this fight to safe her. How many of your men have died in this mad attack?" Malande pressed on, obviously planning to embarrass him in front of the king.

And Sanguinar was hard pressed to stay calm. No matter how much he wanted to strangle the conniving woman, he couldn't do that in front of King Kael'thas. The mere attempt would be a great offense to the king. No matter how much he hated Malande, she was now a part of the king's retinue and on her best way to claim the spot as the king's adviser, that Capernian had left, when she fell from grace.

"That is enough, Malande. Stop antagonizing Lord Sanguinar." The king order, clearly annoyed by the bickering.

"Of course, your grace. Forgive me," Malande replied obediently, curtsying low enough to give the king a good view of her ample bosom. Sanguinar could only scoff at her and her obvious intentions when it came to the king. "Ah and there comes the main actor of your sad play, Sanguinar."

He expected the king to admonish her once more, but instead his attention was on the approaching warrior. Sarannis approached them quickly, still covered in more bandages than armor. It must have been the oddest sight for sure. But there was more. A hooded figure walked behind her. An elven woman, judging by the graceful movement. But she was clearly not one of their own forces. No, she was closely guarded by at least a dozen soldiers, not counting the rangers around the camp, who kept their bows ready, their eyes following her every movement.

"My king," Sarannis said, as she knelt before Kael'thas. She grimaced slightly, as the movement antagonized her wounds. But she bared it and waited until he motioned for her to rise. "This... envoy has arrived. She said she has come with a mutually beneficial proposition."

"She shall speak," Kael'thas ordered, obviously curious, "but first I want her to remove her hood."

"But of course, your grace," the hooded woman spoke, before she revealed her face. Hair as white as snow framed a ghostly paled face with blood red eyes. Though there was no sign of the usual rot, there was no doubt that this elven woman was very much dead.

"Undead! Guards!" Malande screamed, but the king stopped the soldiers with a mere motion of his hand.

"Speak, foul abomination. Who has sent you and why?"

"Your grace, I am Ranger Captain Aeriel. Once in the past I served and died for your father. But now I serve a different master."

"The Scourge. Speak, what does your inbred master want from me now? I he wishes to die, all he has to do is come here himself." Kael'thas growled.

"No, your grace. I am not a servant of the Scourge. Not anymore at least. I was freed, when that dreaded Death Knight left these lands. Now I serve my true master, the Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner."

Sanguinar and Malande could see a flash of emotion run through the king's eyes. It was barely noticeable, but the name of the fallen Ranger General did elicit a most unexpected reaction. Regret. But why?

"Sylvanas Windrunner is dead. She was a proud ranger and defender of Silvermoon and Quel'thalas. She died doing her duty to her people. She died as a hero." Kael'thas growled.

Aeriel smiled sadly at the king, before she spoke, "Lady Sylvanas has died, but she is not dead. She has sent me here as an envoy, to offer you an alliance that will bring an end to the Scourge. Her people, the Forsaken, will ally with the elven kin from Quel'thalas, so we can together get our vengeance."

"Vengeance..." The king mumbled, "I once sought vengeance and lead my people to frozen wasteland that is Icecrown. We only found more death there."

"Together we would be strong enough..."

"No."

"I beg your pardon, your grace, but..."

"I said no. My people will not ally themselves with the very people who have killed their families."

"Your grace, the Forsaken are free from the control of the Lich King. We cannot be held accountable for the actions done under the command of the Scourge."Aeriel replied, a deep frown on her face.

"Undead are undead. I see no difference. All you have is a different name. We will not ally ourselves with our natural enemy."

"But Lady Sylvanas..."

"Lady Sylvanas died as a hero. She will be remembered as such." Keal'thas growled angrily, "Whatever inhabits her corpse now, is not the honorable Ranger General of Quel'thalas and shall never be treated as such. But the day will come when we will find a way to allow her remains to find rest as well."

"You are making a mistake here, foolish king!" Aeriel shouted.

"Sanguinar, dispose of this undead. Make sure that it won't rise again. Allow the spirit that has once possessed this body to rest." Keal'thas ordered, before he turned away, to continue his inspection. He had made up his mind. He would sooner ally with the dreaded humans, than with the undead and their ilk. All undead were the enemies of his people. No exceptions.


	4. Chapter 4

He walked through the dreary sewer, ever wary of the shadows and the abominations that could be hiding in them. Though they had taken this place from the Scourge and expelled that dreaded Death Knight and his slaves, they could never be sure if there were still some enemies here, hidden in the darkness of the capital's sewers, biding their time until they had a chance to strike.

He could hear some screams and faint whimpering from the few living prisoners, who would serve the Apothecaries as testing subjects. A dreadful fate would await them, that much was assured. Those simpering monsters were not known for their mercy and continued the experiments they had started as slaves of the Scourge.

But it wasn't his place to judge. Oh no. His duties seldom required him to come here, to this new Undercity, as some of the Forsaken had come to call the sewers they hide in. It was almost as if they were too afraid to face their past, so they were unable to live in the broken remains of Lordaeron's former capital. The sad reminder of better... more glorious times. Before the Scourge. Before death and unholy rebirth.

Finally he had reached the royal quarters and passed the Queen's guards without as much as looking at them. These undead considered themselves the best among the Banshee Queen's servants, but truth be told, if there ever was an attack, they would fall quickly. Their only duty was too delay the attackers, so the Queen and her rangers could prepare for the onslaught. The so called elite was little more than cannon fodder.

The dark queen's throne room was largely abandoned, as he entered. Only a few dark rangers and Lady Sylvanas, the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken, were there at the moment. And they looked as sinister as the last time he had been here. Others would have been afraid, if they had to face the scowling queen, but Nathanos knew he better, from times before undeath and after.

Her crimson eyes spotted him the moment he had entered and followed his every movement as he got closer. The dark rangers, Layasa and Viena, he believed them to be, were huddled in a corner and whispered about something. Their gaze wandered towards him ever so often and he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever those two were planing, it wouldn't bode well for him to get involved.

He rather stayed out of the business of these rangers. If there was one thing that their deaths had not robbed them of, then it was their elven hubris. They always considered themselves above all others, except their beloved queen, who they served devotedly. Everyone else were merely chess pieces in their twisted games.

But Nathanos decided to ignore those two, in favor of his queen. He bowed deeply before her, a sign of respect and subservience, that he knew she wanted from him and almost all other servants. It pleased her to see it and it was little trouble for him.

"Speak, Nathanos, why have you come here? I had sent you to the east to ensure our victory against those pesky Scourge remnants that the Death Knight has left here when he ran. Why have you abandoned your post?" Sylvanas looked darkly at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"My queen, I come bearing bad news," Nathanos started calmly, "Your envoy to Quel'thalas has not yielded the desired results."

There was no change in her posture or facial expression, but he knew that there was some silent outrage that she tried to hide. "Where is Aeriel then? Why has she not come to report her failure herself? Why are you here in her stead, Nathanos?"

Because he knew any other messenger would have likely lost his life here. He did not wish for his men to die needlessly. "She is dead, my queen. The new elven king has obviously taken offense to seeing an undead elven ranger and has ordered for her to be freed from her torment."

He counted the seconds until the Banshee Queen's temper would erupt with undiminished force and judging by the reaction of the other rangers in the room, he would not have to wait for long. The dark lady's temper had become volatile in undeath. And just as he had expected, the full brunt of her fury exploded towards him within moments.

"HE DID WHAT! THAT GOOD FOR NOTHING BASTARD DARES TO DEFY ME!" She screamed in anger. She deflated slightly after the outburst, or so Nathanos thought at first. But her rant continued, though it was more of a furious whisper now, "I offer him help, a chance to survive for him and his people and this is how he rewards me? I will slaughter him where he stands and have him raised as the lowest of the undead to serve for all eternity!"

"My Queen, maybe we should..."

"Silence!" She did not even listen to what Nathanos wanted to suggest. He knew better than to try again, at least not until she had calmed down. "Kael'thas will rue the day he spat on my offer of friendship. I was willing to forgive his betrayal, to forgive him for abandoning us when we needed him the most, just so he could play god in front of those puny human mages." She started pacing around in her throne room, ignoring the presence of all others in the room.

The dark rangers had retreated to a far away corner in the room, where Nathanos could see them whisper amongst each other. Every now and then they looked at him, though none of those looks could be described as friendly. There was truly no love lost between him and the former elven women. They had despised him in the past, when their general trusted him, a mere human at that time, more than she trusted them. And they hate him now, because even death and unholy rebirth had not changed the nature of his relationship to Lady Sylvanas.

But the continued silence made him nervous. It was eerily silent in the huge, dark room. The shadows wandered, where the light of the torches did not reach, only adding an even more haunting look to the already threatening throne room.

"Nathanos!"

"Yes, my queen?"

"Take our best spies and go to Quel'thalas. I want to know everything that happens within the borders of my homeland. But do not allow the elves to find out about your presence. I want to be able to strike at them when they least expect it." The dark lady ordered him coldly. Her blood red eyes, filled with so much malice, now threatened to set him on fire, should he displease her.

"And the elven king?"

"Leave him be. When the time comes, he will be mine to deal with. But should you see any attempts from the elves to reconnect with the Alliance, then put an end to it. Blame the Scourge if you have to, but don't allow Quel'thalas to return to it's former allies. We want them weak and desperate. Now go!"

"At once, my queen," Nathanos said, as he bowed before her. There was no need to look over o them, but he knew that the dark rangers were waiting for him. They obviously expected him to choose them for this mission. Well they would be in for one big disappointment...

* * *

A migraine had been his only reward so far. Working day and night, planning, listening to the incessant chatter of his so called advisers. All for the survival of his people. It was still an uphill battle, but things were finally getting better, instead of worse. In some aspects at least. He could see it from his place, at one of the large windows in his private study.

Half of the kingdom had already been reclaimed and secured. Now all lands north of the Elrendar river were safe once more and his people had a home in this twisted and abominable world. As he walked through the city with his entourage to inspect the efforts to rebuild the capital, he had heard something that he had almost forgotten. For the first time since the nightmare had begun, he had heard the laughter of children. Carefree and happy, in the streets of Silvermoon. It was almost hauntingly beautiful to hear and he knew that he wasn't the only one who had thought so. The men looked on in pride, knowing that all their efforts would not be in vain, as long as there is a future generation to continue once this generation has passed away. He even saw Malande cry in happyness that day, though he could never be sure how much was the truth and what was merely an act from her. She was not above using every trick available to gain an advantage.

But for once he felt almost content. Content enough to allow himself a moment of rest. Almost. But there were still so many problems left. He knew that he couldn't rest... not yet. He longed for the past, the days when his father ruled and he was a Magister of the Kirin Tor. But those days were in the past now. Now he was the king. King Kael'thas, last of the Sunstrider dynasty, ruler of a broken kingdom, ruler of a broken race. He never wanted to be king. He despised the fame and glory that came with the title, because he would receive it without working for it. Now he had inherited... a shadow of glory, a shattered realm.

"Ahem!" He tore his gaze away from the city beneath his window and looked over to the door. He had not even realized that he had left the large double doors open. But now there stood a man he knew well.

"Yes, Rommath? Is there something you need?"

Rommath, his newly appointed Grand Magister, to replace the revered Grand Magister Belo'vir, who had died in the defense of the realm. Kael'thas knew that the Grand Magister was supposed to be elected, but when he nominated his friend for the position, no one dared to object. And Rommath was certainly powerful enough for this honor, as he was possibly only second to himself when it comes to magical prowess. Now he only had to earn the respect Belo'vir still has long after his death.

"For so many years I have wondered what this study looks like, you know. No one knew, but the king and Grand Magister Belo'vir, who often came here to advise your father." Rommath said idly, as he strolled inside.

"And does the real thing live up to your expectations?" Kael asked almost amused.

Rommath chuckled and shook his head, "Not really. I expected more..."

"Golden ornaments?"

"Mystery. In the end this is just another study, not much different from my own." Rommath replied, as joined Kael near the window. "But the view is definitely better. I only get to see the cliffs from my place."

"As much as I appreciate the distraction, old friend, I still have to ask. Why are you here?"

Rommath sighed and he tried to get some wrinkles out of his fancy robes, as if he tried to distract himself for a moment, before he answered, "We have a problem."

"Really? Do tell, please," Kael answered mockingly. He would be happy if there was only one problem at the moment. It would be a tremendous improvement of their situation.

"Sadly this is no laughing matter. The addiction has become worse. We had six new cases of extreme withdrawal this morning alone. If this continues I will be out of mages in a few days." Rommath said. He looked solemnly out of the window, before he added, "Maryana and Marathelle were among them this time."

Kael cursed silently, as he heard this. He knew both women well. Both had been Rommath's prized students and he knew how much it had meant for his friend to be able to get them both through the war in one piece. To hear that they were suffering now... it was depressing. For a moment his thoughts drifted to his own favorite students, but he knew that both were out of his sphere of influence. At least they would be safe among the Kirin Tor... he hoped that at least.

"Any progress on a cure?"

"None. Unless we do what that demon hunter has shown us..." Rommath was hesitant to mention the solution Illidan had offered. It was tempting, but the repercussions could be too much to handle.

"We are talking about siphoning magic from living beings here, Rommath. This is not a solution, this is merely a delay of the inevitable." The king admonished his friend.

"I know. But we are running out of time here, Kael'thas. If we don't find a way to cure the addiction to the Sunwell, our people will die, slowly. The mages first, then the elders, then the rest. Even the Farstriders and their moral-we-don't-use-magic-we-are-better-than-that-superiority cannot live without the constant flow from the Sunwell. We need this delay, if we wish to survive." Rommath knew that he was one of few who would dare to talk to their king like this. And he was possibly the only one who could get away with it now. Because he was right.

"And what would you have me do? Tell my people to go around and suck the magic out of everything they can find, so they can quench their first for arcane magic? We both know that there are other ways. That one can overcome the addiction by willpower. You and I are the best examples for that."

"We are stronger than the rest, Kael'thas. Dammit, we are not like them. Can you really tell them to go and wither away, because they are not as strong as we are? Just think about what you are saying, please!" Rommath pleaded with the king, knowing that he had to succeed, if he wanted for his students to survive the day.

Kael'thas meanwhile took a deep breath, as his gaze wandered out of the window once more. Below them, around the great fountain, he could see his people. Men and women, playing children, all living somewhat happily once more. But the threat of the addiction was real and it threatened all of them even more than the Scourge itself. He clenched his fists, as he came to the unsatisfying conclusion. It wasn't as if he had a choice. And that even though he had sworn to himself that he would forget that sorry chapter of his life, where he had wasted the lives of his people for that half-demon mongrel.

"Even if I allow it, there aren't enough magical creatures and artifacts in all of Quel'thalas to support all of our people for long," Kael finally said.

"Not in Quel'thalas," Rommath echoed in agreement, "But the Nether is full of them."

"Demons? Are you out of your mind, Rommath?"

"What choice do we have? It is do or die!"

"And taint our people with demon magic? We destroyed the remains of the Sunwell after that Lich had tainted it, to stop the corruption of our people from such foul magic."

"It is our only hope. Our people are strong enough to overcome the corruption of the demonic essence, I am sure of it. And once we have found a cure, we can slowly rid ourselves of the taint." Rommath would not relent now. He had nearly convinced Kael'thas of his idea, all that was left now was to get him to give his permission.

"This is a dangerous gamble. We trade possible death for some of our people with certain corruption for all of them." Kael'thas cautioned. He knew he had to be ruthless or else his people had no future, but this was certainly one step too far or not?

"Well then you can tell the trolls to erect a monument in our honor, citing that we rather died than risk corruption. I am sure they will be happy to, once they reclaim this land from our corpses."

"Fine. Fine. We will try it. Only a small group, Rommath. I want to know what we are dealing with, before we condemn all of our people," Kael finally relented. Deep down he knew that this would be just one more reason for future generations to remember him as a ruthless monster. Now he would feed his people to the demons... or the other way around... he wasn't so sure. But when he saw the triumphant grin on Rommath's face, something dawned on him, "You were not here to get permission, were you?"

"Not exactly." Rommath replied. But the Grand Magister showed not a hint of remorse, "I know that you hate betrayal more than anything, but I had to act to safe the lives of my students. And in some cases it is better to ask for forgiveness, than to ask for permission."

"We will talk about this later, Rommath." Kael'thas warned angrily. He would only tolerate this now, because Rommath did not solely do this for himself, but for others. But there would be consequences."Take me to them. NOW!"

The Grand Magister nodded, before he lead the king towards the quarters, where his mages treated their sick and wounded brothers and sisters. No matter where they went, every time the people saw him enter with Kael'thas, all talking ceased and the rooms became quiet. So quiet that they could hear the light footsteps of the two powerful mages on their way. Rommath would have been amused by this, had it not been for the grievous situation they were in.

Soon they reached a large, circular room, filled with several beds and tables. But only two beds were occupied at the moment. But it were not the two sickly looking women on the beds, who gave the Kael'thas a foreboding feeling, but the giant green crystal in the center of the room. No matter how he looked at it, he felt as if there was something staring back. Something sinister. Something demonic.

"So this is your solution..." Kael said, as he inspected the crystal further.

"Yes. We followed the instructions from the demon hunter and captured a demon. We trapped it in this crystal, to ensure that it won't be able to cause chaos. It is for all intents and purposes trapped and defenseless." Rommath explained. Then he placed his hand on the surface of the crystal and focused on drawing energy from it. He sighed, as he felt the siphoned magic rush into his own body. It was almost as if someone had suddenly lifted a great burden from him.

"Careful, old friend, don't be the first to fall to the corruption. I would hate to be forced to kill you. I still have use for you."

"How charming." Rommath replied, smirking at his friend. "But just as you have said, both of us are stronger than the run of the mill mage these days. I can fend off the corruption quite easily." He said haughtily.

"Master..." they heard the weak voice from one of the beds. The woman there tried to push herself up from the bed, though it took her three attempts, before she managed to get up.

Kael'thas cursed, as he saw her appearance. Her skin was sickly pale and her eyes so bloodshot that he could barely see any white left in them. And even her once golden hair had lost all of its luster and hung down on her in a tangled mess. She had been easy on they eye before, but now she was little more than a haggard crone, Kael'thas mused quietly.

"Easy, Maryana, you are still too weak. You need to rest some more, before you can absorb more magic." Rommath tried to gently push her back into the bed, but she resisted stubbornly.

"But I need more... it... it hurts so much. Like someone has torn my chest open... Please, just once... I need more, master." She begged him for more magic from the crystal. It shocked the king to see Maryana like this. She had always been very proud, especially since she was a daughter of an old and revered noble family. Now she was the last of that line as well.

"No. Too much at once will only destroy you. Remember what has happened to Magister Laerion. You don't want to follow his example. Now rest." Rommath argued, but the woman remained stubborn and tried to push him out of the way, so she could reach the crystal.

"NO!" Rommath was suddenly blown away from the woman, as she unleashed an arcane blast against his chest. She staggered for a moment, before she tried to rush towards the crystal. But Kael'thas wouldn't let her. With a mere sway of his hand, he had encased her in a thick shell of ice, leaving only her head free to move. She looked shocked at the king, as if she had not even realized that he had been there before. But then she started sobbing. "Please... your grace, I need it. It hurts... I can't live like this... I..."

She couldn't finish her sentence. Kael'thas had approached her with a few long strides and stood right in front of her now. Before she knew it, she felt a stinging pain on her cheek. The king had backhanded her quite roughly, before he spat at her, "Pull yourself together, woman. You are a disgrace. A disgrace for all the magisters. A disgrace for all of our people. And worst, you a disgrace for you family, who has died so you could live. And how do you repay them for their sacrifice? Huh? Answer me!"

"I..."

"You what?"

"I want to die..." Her answer was barely above a whisper and had Kael'thas not stood right in front of her, he would not have heard it. But he did and hearing this made him only angrier at this woman. So many had died, who wanted to live a long and happy live. This woman had survived, but now she wished for her death. It was as if she spat on the graves of each and every one of her fallen brethren.

"You will not die. I forbid it. You will pull yourself together and control your addiction. You will not bring shame to your family and to my court. Should you fail me, I will send my men to capture a necromancer, so we can resurrect you as an undead and lock you away in a dark cell for the rest of your miserable existence. I won't allow such weakness among my people, understood?"

She could not find any words to answer him, so she simply nodded. Her cheek was still throbbing painfully and her eyes were wide in shock and fear. But at that moment she feared the king and her fear overshadowed everything, even her aching longing for the magic of the crystal. At one point she couldn't stand looking him in the eyes any more, so she averted her gaze and started whimpering in fear of the powerful king.

"Pathetic." Kael'thas spat, before he turned around, to see how Rommath was doing. The other mage was already up, though the blow had obviously been quite severe. He was leaning heavily on his other student, Marathelle, who must have woken up because of the commotion. She looked slightly better than Maryana, though she was equally scared of the king. "Go and see the healers, Rommath. I need you in top condition, we have no room for failure." He looked over his shoulder at Maryana, as he said the word failure, making it obvious what he thought of her.

"I'm alright. She just surprised me." Rommath assured, as he pushed Marathelle away, to prove that he was not gravely wounded.

"And you?" Kael'thas asked Marathelle, "Are you also desperate to get the demonic magic from this crystal?" His voice was dark, promising swift punishment, should her answer displease him.

"No... no, your grace. I will endure it. I will not fail you."

"See to it that you don't." the king said, before he decided to leave. But before he was out of the room, he turned around once more and addressed Rommath, "You may continue your experiment, but see to it, that something like this..." he pointed directly at the still sobbing Maryana, "...does not happen again."

"Of course, your grace," Rommath said through gritted teeth. He felt embarrassed by his own student and felt quite angry at Maryana for attacking him. He would have to correct her behavior. But first he would let her think about her actions, while she spent her time encased in her ice-block.

* * *

A sickening crunch could be heard, as her sword crushed into the rotten flesh of the ghoul. A putrid smell had long since polluted the air in the entire village, as Sarannis and her man cut their path through the large horde of undead.

"Keep on fighting, their numbers are dwindling, it is almost over!" She yelled.

Originally they had come to free this village from a group of ghosts, that had infested the ruins of Goldenmist. But the moment they had gotten rid of the ghosts, the undead had come from the darkness of the surrounding forest. Within moments, she and her men had been surrounded by the mindless beasts. But much to her relief, nearly all of the undead were merely lowly minions, barely more dangerous to her trained warriors than the usual wildlife that once inhabited these woods. But they had to do their bloody work none the less. One by one they decimated the horde, her men only suffering minor wounds in the process. But she was sure that this was not the end of it. She had learned one lesson very early in this war, the undead do not know the meaning of giving up. They always came back, every time with even greater numbers than before.

"Commander! Enemy reinforcements are approaching!" Lyrlia said, as she had reached Sarannis.

"Do not falter. Show them the true might of the Sin'dorei." Sarannis commanded, before she charged at the new enemies. Her soldiers followed her with fierce war-cries, emboldened by their latest successful raids against the Scourge.

The new enemies were stronger than the mere ghouls the elves had to fight before. The first wave was nothing but cannon fodder, but these undead were far better equipped and had obviously retained more of their former intelligence and were far tougher to beat.

"Bah, spiders! I hate spiders!" Lyrlia spat, as she cut through a Crypt Fiend.

Sarannis was surprised to see these spiders so far north. The reports of the Farstrider Scouts had indicated that the remaining Nerubians had fled to the Scourge Stronghold in the south, after their crushing defeat in the village of Suncrown.

But she had little time to ponder this further, as the enemies still continued to overrun the village her men had only just liberated from the undead infestation. Some of her own men were already retreating back to the buildings, where they would be able to defend themselves better against the numerous enemies.

"Stand your ground! Don't give them even an inch of our homeland!" Sarannis bellowed, but it was of little use. They were already outnumbered and tired. They would have to retreat... but all she could see were enemies everywhere. The village was already surrounded and all hope to escape was crushed. "Lyrlia, run to the buildings. Try to barricade the entrance."

The other woman merely nodded, before she ran towards the buildings, followed by the few others, who had stood their ground till the very end. Sarannis wanted to follow them, but it was already too late. The undead had surrounded her on all sides.

But they did not attack her. They formed a large circle around her. Watched her. But they were waiting. But for what? Or... for whom? But she did not have to wait for long, to get answers.

"Well, well. Now look at this. A little elf, all alone by herself. Playtime is over. Your resistance ends here."

The enemy horde parted at one side and a heavily armored Scourge commander approached Sarannis. She remembered this enemy. It was the same dark knight, who had lead the Scourge troops in their attempt to retake Tranquillien not long ago. It was the same pitch black armor, the same glowing blue eyes... the same twisted voice.

"You. I see you have brought more friends this time," Sarannis said defiantly, in an attempt to show more bravado than she actually felt in her situation. She would not despair. Should this be her last moments among the living, she would use them to destroy as many undead as possible.

"Mock me all you want, girl. Your miserable existence ends here." She could hear the anger in the dark knight's voice. She smirked. He was easy to anger, as it seemed.

"Then fight me, you poor excuse for an elf. Give me the chance to rid this world of one more traitor!"

"You will die." was all her enemy said, before he took the large two handed sword off his back and swung it at her.

Sarannis ducked under the weapon, before she shot forward in an attempt to pierce her enemy's armor. But the black armor was too thick, too strong for such a blow to succeed. Instead she stumbled slightly, as her blade was deflected.

The knight used this moment of weakness and gave her a crushing kick against her knee. The elven woman hissed in pain, as the heavy boot dented the light armor and nearly broke the bones in her knee and leg.

"Pathetic," the knight grunted, "You people break so easily. It is hard to believe that I used to be like you."

"No, you were never like us. You are just a cursed traitor. You will be crushed, like all the other undead," Sarannis replied, as she hobbled away from her enemy. She tried to stand on her wounded leg, but it wouldn't carry her weight any more. She had tried to end the fight quickly and with this one folly, she had thrown away all chances to survive this ordeal.

The knight growled in anger, as he approached her with swiftly, each of his heavy steps leaving a deep mark on the soft soil. Oh he was furious. She did not need to see his face to know that. He swung at her again and she tried to block the swing. But it only ended with her weapon on the ground, forced out of her hand by the strong blow. Before she knew what he had planned, he had already dropped his own weapon and both of his hands were wrapped around her neck, nearly crushing her throat. Breathing became more and more difficult, as she stared at those icy eyes, which she could see through the slits of his helmet.

"Not so haughty now, huh. No more mocking words from you? Nothing?" He had obviously allowed his fury to overrule his common sense, but sadly she was no longer in any position to exploit that. Her consciousness was quickly slipping away from the lack of oxygen. "You have always been so high and mighty. Always the better one, always the more the respected one. And look at you now. You are nothing more than a broken little bitch. Now you will pay for all the things you have done to me, Sarannis."

She had no idea what he was talking about. Had she known him before? Was he someone from her past? A former comrade? Someone from her home village? A friend? She did not know. His face was still hidden by his gruesome helmet. But his accusations...

"And now... you die!" the knight said, as he chuckled menacingly.

She closed her eyes and waited for the final blow or for her throat to be fully crushed. She would not cower in fear of death. She would accept it now. She only regretted, that she was not able to fully liberate her home before her death. She regretted that she had failed her people.

But the final blow did not come. Instead the knight dropped her. She had no idea why though. But the sounds of battle around her had suddenly increased again. Had Lyrlia and the rest of her men come back to save her? No, that was impossible. There were too few of them left for such an insane attempt.

"Looks like someone has come for you, little girl. Don't worry, though. They will all only find death here. But you will be the last to die. I want to savor your final moments." The knight growled, obviously annoyed by this. Moments later Sarannis had already succumbed to blissful unconsciousness.


	5. Chapter 5

"The battle at Goldenmist has been a catastrophe. None of the soldiers we have sent out returned without some sort of wound, six have not returned at all. And to make things worse, the commander has yet to regain consciousness. Had we not sent aid, all of them would have died," Lord Sanguinar raged loudly. "You have waited too long to attack, Mehlar!"

"But they survived. Sarannis survived. That is all that I care about. The enemy had not expected our arrival and paid the price for their idiocy. We have rarely gotten a chance to slaughter so many of these undead beasts."

Sanguinar huffed derisively, not convinced by his companion's words. They may have won, but at the same time their position had been weakened severely. Most of Sarannis men would not be able to fight for several days, if not longer. The enemy would take advantage of this weakness, no doubt about that. And worse yet...

"Their leader has escaped our grasp once again. That damn black knight, I want him dead. You can celebrate once you have defeated him, Dawnblade," Sanguinar challenged the man.

"He is a coward and will die like one. His end will come swiftly. The Light will purge him."

"Then let us hope that you beloved Light will aid you with that... ah, it seems that she is waking up."

Both men walked over to the sole bed in the small room, where Commander Sarannis rested, guarded by her ever faithful companion, Lyrlia. So far the commander had been unconscious, even after a healer had tended to her wounds, but finally she had started to stir.

"So loud... let me sleep, brother..." She murmured. Lyrlia chuckled, as she was the only one who had understood her. The men could only look at her with the silent demand to repeat Sarannis words for them. But the lithe woman did not comply, instead she stayed by her commander's side and helped her to sit up.

"Easy, commander, you have been out for more than a day. Don't strain yourself too much," Lyrlia muttered soothingly, "Can someone give me the cup, she must be parched."

Sanguinar only watched impassively, as his companion handed a cup filled with fresh water to Lyrlia, who helped Sarannis drink. The commander emptied the cup greedily, before a content sigh escaped her lips. They refilled her cup, but she did not drink it immediately. Instead she looked at the people around her. The elated smile that graced her lips when she saw Lyrlia by her side, alive and well, changed to a look of respect when she saw her lord, before it became a look of utter disbelief at the sight of her other visitor.

"Mehlar? Is that really you?"

"Yes, sister. I am here..."

Before he had the time to react, Sarannis had jumped up and grabbed him in a tight, almost desperate hug. She had ignored the protest of her battered body, all she could think about was to hold her brother, the first member of her family she had found after the devastation of their homeland. It was almost as if she feared that he might vanish, that she might wake up only to find out that it was just a cruel dream.

"Easy, Sarannis. The healers have tended to your wounds, but that does not mean that you should antagonize them so soon. Sit back down," He pushed her back onto the bed, where she sat down. But she still refused to let go of him and kept a hand on his harm at all times.

"It is just that I had given up all hope to find any survivors of our family..."

"There are no survivors. Only us. But that is all that matters, sister. We live, so we can avenge our family." Mehlar replied firmly.

Lord Sanguinar watched the scene with some expertly hidden happiness. He was quite fond of his apprentice and he had not seen her this happy since before the Scourge's attack. She had something that not many of their people would have, a living family member. The undead had slaughtered so many of their race, they had destroyed so many families... Sanguinar himself remembered those he had lost... bitter memories of those he had not been able to safe. Most importantly the daughter he had seen too rarely, due to his duties for the prince...

"Mehlar... are my men..."

"Most survived. Only a hand full died, but all of them need a break. You won't be going on any more foolish crusades any time soon."

"Anar'alah belore," Sarannis breathed, her relief plain visible on her face. "I had feared... I couldn't have lived with myself, had I lead any more of our people to their deaths... not after what had happened in Icecrown..."

"Fear not, we have achieved a great victory in Goldenmist. The enemy warlord erred greatly when he believed that we would send you to free that village without proper backup." Lord Sanguinar assured her.

"I didn't know about the backup!" She felt angry all of a sudden. Why hadn't she been told? Her decisions would have been different, had she known about the backup. Some of her men could have survived this mess.

However, the elven lord did not feel the need to look taken back or show even the slightest hint of remorse for misleading his pupil. Far from it, he frowned in displeasure over her temper tantrum. "You were part of a much bigger plan, Sarannis. Do not believe that you are entitled to know everything." He chastised her sternly.

She swallowed hard, as she tried to keep her anger at bay. In situations such as this, it was hard to forget who this man really was. Lord Sanguinar was not called the Bloodhammer for nothing. If he wants, he can be frightening beyond measure. And right that moment his anger at her was indeed frightening.

"We needed to lure out our enemy, Sarannis. We never stand a chance against them, if they fortify their position inside Deathholme with all of their troops. We would loose this war against the fortress alone. To bleed them dry, to decimate their troops, that is our best chance." Mehlar told her. But he did not look at her, his gaze was on the lord, who was still pacing through the room.

His armor made clacking sounds, the ringmail beneath it ringing slightly with every step. He was always wearing his black armor, day and night as it seemed. Sarannis could not remember a day she had seen him without it.

"I fear that your rest will be cut shorter than you might need for a full recovery, Sarannis," Lord Sanguinar said. "Your brother is right, we have our tactics against the enemy. But with their grave losses at Goldenmist, they will be forced to act. They may vacate other parts of the Ghostlands, that are of lesser importance in this war. We must crush their forces, before they can retreat to their fortress."

"My lord, she is in no condition to fight, let alone in that place! She can't!" Mehlar interjected loudly, but as it seemed the lord was not inclined to listen. "My lord!"

"I have heard you, Mehlar, but we have no choice. I have three locations that need to be attacked in the next few days, but only two battle ready armies. My third army is battered and tired, but I cannot and will not allow them to slack off when these foul beasts still occupy our sacred homeland!"

"Then let her move against the enemies at the Thalassian Pass," Mehlar demanded, "I will take her place and attack..."

"No," and the decision was final. Lord Sanguinar would not allow further discussion of this topic. "It is time for her to face the demons of her past. She will attack the Windrunner Spire and the village. Let her cleanse her childhood home from the undead filth that has taken up residence there."

The Windrunner Spire, ancestral seat of the noble Windrunner family. Sarannis couldn't believe what she was hearing. So far she had tried to forget that this part of her homeland had yet to be reclaimed. She didn't feel up to fighting in the place where she had grown up. Where her family had lived... where they have died... Would their disfigured corpses be among the undead waiting for her? What would the village be like? She had not been home for nearly two decades now... she had been a child barely grown, when she left to pursue her foolish dream of glory as an elven ranger.

"Can you give me your home village and the Spire or am I in need of a new commander, Sarannis?" Lord Sanguinar asked impatiently.

"I will... I mean... I will fight, my lord. I will retake the Windrunner Spire and the village."

"Good. Then I will leave you to it. See it done before the end of the month, the king is likely to visit us in a fortnight to see our progress. Do not disappoint him with failure, Sarannis!" And then the lord left. Lyrlia followed him swiftly, to prepare the troops for her commander. Sarannis remained alone with her brother, who stared grimly at the place Sanguinar had vacated previously.

"You don't have to do this, sister. I will go in your stead. Let this man threaten us all he wants, I won't put you through this." Mehlar told her, his voice barely above a growl.

"No. I will do it..."

"Sarannis, he can't force you to..."

"But I want to do it. I have run from this all my life. I had been too scared to return home after I had run away. I have abandoned our family, all I can do now, is to reclaim the village and put them to rest. This is my burden, not yours, brother."

She pushed herself up from the bed and stood up straight. She felt slightly wobbly on her feet for a moment, but she got her bearing back, before she would have fallen over. Mehlar looked her in the eyes, the gazes of both siblings filled with determination.

"You are too stubborn for your own good," Mehlar commented.

"You are one to talk," Sarannis replied, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I would blame our father for that. It seems that we have inherited his pigheadedness," Mehlar concluded, before both siblings burst out laughing.

It was so unreal. Their situation was hardy amusing. Nor would there be anything to be happy about in the near future. But in this dark moment, they shared a laugh at the expense of a memory of better days. Their memories were fond, the present could never measure up to that. But as they stopped laughing, the determination returned to their faces. They would vanquish the darkness in their homeland... or they would die trying.


End file.
